


A Whole New World

by DokiDokiPeppers



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ghoul mating behavior, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Totally unCanon ghoul biology, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DokiDokiPeppers/pseuds/DokiDokiPeppers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Frame Release surgery. His key to unlocking the talents slumbering just under the first layers of skin. Power, recognition, his promotion, all things that were held just out of his grasp could be so easily obtained, to ignore it in fear of side effects would simply be ignorant. Pain and discomfort he could handle, but becoming more like a species he knew little to nothing about? That he was unprepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whole New World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Here I am again, this time bearing one of my favorite parings, and one of my favorite ideas to play with: weird ass Ghoul biology~ I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, I may just make this one a series because I love Kuki so much, and torturing him is a lot more fun then it should be.

It started subtle.

Dinner didn’t smell appetizing anymore. He blamed Haise and his (useless) overly complicated way of cooking.

It didn’t bother him much, he forced it down anyway. He couldn’t risk his promotion because of a picky appetite. Soon after all food, even food he _knew_ he liked, became unappetizing. Then purely nauseating. The sight and smell turned his stomach and he couldn’t fathom why.

So he ate when he could no longer stand the roiling hunger pains.

Suspecting foul play, Urie began to pay extra attention to his (mediocre) teammates and found everything to be normal. No one else refused dinner, or seemed to be less enamored with Haise’s cooking. So Urie kept the problem to himself, unwilling to show even an iota of weakness to his team and (damnable) superior.

He pushed on, just as he always had.

Then other complications arose, some harder to ignore then others. Such as his aggression.

Urie had always been above petty troubles and squabbles, but as of late it felt as if he had a bulging knot in the back of his skull that urged him to _scream, rage, destroy_. Shirazu had bumped him in the shoulder in the hallway, and Urie had damn near strangled him into unconsciousness.

If it hadn’t been for Tooru pulling at his arm, he was sure he would have ripped his throat out. More troubling then the actual violence, he couldn’t place why he had snapped or why he was so disappointed that it hadn’t ended in blood.

Sure he wasn’t particularly fond of Shirazu, or any of his team for that matter, but he certainly knew the repercussions of attacking his allies. With surprisingly relative ease, the situation was covered. Shirazu didn’t want to report he’d been so easily and thoroughly throttled and Tooru wasn’t fond of confrontation. So the problem went away for a while.

Then Urie began to notice a pattern.

This newly placed aggression seemed to manifest exclusively toward his male teammates. Excluding Tooru for some reason. Eventually Shirazu took to avoiding him after an especially nasty bout of sparring that Haise himself had to break up. After that the problem waned for a short time only to reappear and center maliciously on his superior.

Urie had never liked Haise.

But he was quiet, easy enough to ignore when not on missions. Suddenly Urie found he’d rather brave the loss of his promotion and even his rank then live under the same roof as him. Seeing him, hearing him, god smelling him was the worst.

He could _always_ smell him.

Sandalwood soap, worn book pages, his Rinkaku, his sweat, so dry and soft but undeniably male that Urie wanted to rip him limb from limb. Bite his jugular out, strangle the air from his very lungs, hold him down and fuck-

Mentally recoiling, Urie found that he had been staring. Staring at Haise. Staring at his throat, so slim, so easy to bruise…

_What?_

These confusing (unwelcome) urges only worsened with time. To the point of where Urie unconsciously bared his teeth at Haise in passing one afternoon. To his utter surprise, (weak) unshakable Haise responded in kind. Rolling his upper lip up and snarling at him, and while he halted in shock, Haise kept on his way.

As if this was familiar behavior.

Something that was insignificant, expected even. It was _infuriating._

Before Urie knew it he was lunging, teeth bared and finger flexed like claws, with only one objective in mind: _get him on the ground._ His fingers found purchase in Haise’s cream colored cardigan but all he could see was red, and he couldn’t breathe. _Why couldn’t he breathe?_

When the red faded he found that it was _he_ that had been thrown to the ground, air knocked from his lungs and pinned by Haise’s knee pressed against his throat.

Urie opened his mouth to demand him to get off, to get _away_ but his voice was halted by this _noise_ that Haise was making. Not quite a growl. More like a rumble from deep within his chest, not unlike a crocodile, but so inherently threatening that all the tension in his body fled.

And his _eyes,_ usually so (soft) compassionate, they were hard as flint. Unimpressed and uncompromising, they pinned Urie far more efficiently that his knee while he made that (melodical) infuriating noise.

All the while this _smell_ hung between them. Peppery, sharp, _decadent_.

Where was it coming from?! Flaring his nostrils, Urie took as deep of breathes that he was allowed, chasing that smell to inhale it in dregs, trying to discern its location. When Haise’s knee relaxed enough for him to turn his head, he did that as well to seek that smell, and found his shoulder damp.

_What?_

Haise hadn’t struck him, what was going on here?

And just like that, the weight on his neck disappeared as Haise elegantly brought himself back to his feet. But though he knew he was no longer pinned, something kept Urie on the laminate floor until Haise turned his back and continued on as if this incident had been nothing but a greeting in passing.

However when he turned his back, that smelled caressed his nose again, and when Urie turned his head to follow it he found his eyes glue to a damp spot on the small of Haises back.

The sight made something unknown to him clench in his insides. His mouth began to water, and a thirst unlike any in his life settled in the back of his throat. When he arrived at his door, Haise threw a look of bland interest over his shoulder, and reached behind him to smooth a hand over his lower back.  

The _sound_ of it, of something viscous and thick sliding over his skin had a drop of drool sliding down Urie’s parted lips, followed by a keening whine he’d be otherwise ashamed to have made. But in this shared moment, he could only feel a phantom thirst and a not some phantom pain in his pants graze the floor as he rolled to his stomach.

The moment of pure indescribable instinct was shattered by the creak of Saiko’s door at the opposite end of the hall. Urie threw a scathing look over his shoulder to check if he they had been seen, and when he looked back he found that Haise had retreated into his room.

Immediately becoming irate, he peeled himself from the floor before the sleepy lump of useless shuffled from her room and noticed his _problem._ Snarling at her over his shoulder for good measure, he too retreated to his room stomping the whole way.

Slamming his door for pure dramatics, Urie made a beeline for his bed once he was safely inside.

What in all seven hells had just happened?

He was sure he had no idea why he made a complete ass of himself in front of his loathsome superior, or what it even was he had craved in that moment. Not one bit of that _incident_ was rational.

No, it had come from something deeper, something primal. Something feral.

‘But why now?’ He pondered, reaching back and under his shirt to probe the dampness around his bare shoulder with a shaking hand. His hand came back coated in a thick but ultimately clear substance. ‘Definitely not blood,’ he noted with relief. But why, and where was it coming from?

He smoothed his hand further down his shoulder until the pad of his forefinger brushed something slightly raised and _very_ sensitive. It was the spot that held his RC sack.

And all at once, realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

His loss of appetite, his aggression, and whatever _this_ was. It was all some sort of filthy Ghoul behavior.

And the reason why none of the other Quinx had shown symptoms like his, they hadn’t yet undergone the second surgery as he had.

And Haise?

He was obviously more Ghoul then human. How much he couldn’t be certain, but definitely more than himself and the others. In fact, to his knowledge, the only thing humanesque about Haise was his accomplishments in the CCG.

Before their tiff in the hall, Urie would have added his appearance. But no human would have given him the look that Haise had.

As if he were some prime male, looking for his choice of bitch.


End file.
